by Kenzie Reed
She moves closer and sniffles. My Sienna is coming back to me. She’s letting me in. Finally. I can breathe.
“I love you too,” she whispers. “You make me feel like I can do anything. You make me feel smart and strong and protected. Losing you was like losing a limb. It was a never-ending ache.”
“Let’s never be this stupid again.” I reach out and wrap my arms around her and crush her up against me in a mighty hug.
“Oof. Love hurts.”
I loosen my grip just a little, and she tips her head back up to stare at me.
“Wait a minute,” I say. “There’s one last secret. I wasn’t telling you the whole truth about why I was in the parking lot of the Wine Knot Wedding Chapel the day we got married. I mean, I would have come to town at some point to set up that equipment for my family, but when I heard about the deal with you marrying Jonathon, I flew to Greenvale so fast I think I left scorch marks in the sky. Given how you and I had officially been enemies since you were eight, I couldn’t really tell you how I felt. I mean, I didn’t really let myself feel what I felt. I didn’t dare let myself dream of a future with you, I just acted on instinct. And…okay, this is kind of embarrassing.”
Her lips curve up in a grin. “In that case, you definitely have to tell me.”
“I used a phone-spoofing service that makes it look like you’re sending text messages from any number you choose. I pretended I was Jonathon, and texted Mia to meet him in the ladies’ room. I knew he’d always had a crush on her. I sabotaged the wedding. Are you mad?”
“Holy… Oh my God.” She starts laughing. “Whoa. That is some next-level shenanigans there. I’m astonished, but I guess I’m not mad. As long as you never keep another secret from me.”
“No more secrets, Sienna. I just couldn’t stand the thought of you being married to someone else. Because you were meant to be mine.” My eyes are burning with very unmanly tears. “It’s always been you, Sienna.”
“We’ve wasted so much damn time because of this stupid family feud. And did I mention how much I missed you?”
She grabs my T-shirt and starts pulling it up over my head, but she’s too short. I pull the shirt off and toss it on the floor.
I grab her shirt and strip it off in one smooth motion. “I missed you every minute of every day. You stubborn fool.”
“Oh yeah, well, I missed you every second of every minute of every day. You secretive jackass.”
I unbutton my slacks and kick off my shoes. “I missed you every micro-second, and trust a Ribaldi to try to one-up a Witlocke in the romance department.”
“Trust a Witlocke…” She trails off. Then she looks up at me in wonder. “I do trust a Witlocke. For the first time in my life. I trust one particular Witlocke.” She shucks her shorts, and they fall on the floor.
I lift her onto the kitchen counter and kneel down, parting her thighs with my hands.
“Oh my God,” she moans. She widens her thighs, and I run my tongue up the wet seam of her pussy, lapping up her nectar. Her fingers tangle in my hair, and her breathing quickens. When her moaning reaches a tortured peak, I pull back, and she lets out a hiss of protest.
I slide my pants off and step out of them.
Gripping her hips, I pull her to me and enter her with a single savage thrust.
My fingers sink into her hips as I pump into her. “Mine.”
“Yes,” she pants.
“Say it, Sienna.” Thrust. I slam into her so hard she rocks backwards. I hold her firmly in place.
“Oh, God. I’m yours.”
“And you’re mine forever.” Thrust. “I’m never letting you go.”
“Too much…” thrust…”talking… Oh…” She moans aloud, then shudders, her inner sheath squeezing me as she orgasms. She comes so hard her hips lift, and my own climax crashes down on me, and I explode inside her, gasping with release.
Behind my eyelids I see pinwheels of stars. Sienna slumps into my arms, panting and sated. For now. I slowly slide out of her, holding on to her the whole time.
“Need to wash this counter before Aunt Fernanda cooks on it again,” she mumbles.
I burst out laughing. “Your brain comes up with the most random things.”
“You know I’m right, though.” She tilts her head back and looks up at me with a smile. “Hey. I’m so glad you’re home.”
As we stand there, sweat-drenched, a sound vibrates up from my slacks on the floor. It’s my phone ringing with my father’s ringtone. I ignore it.
“Let’s go to our bedroom and resume this conversation.” I kiss her pillow-soft lips, then nibble her lower lip gently.
“Aunt Fernanda’s using that bedroom now. I don’t want to violate it. I have a nice firm mattress up in the loft, though.”
The phone stops ringing and immediately starts ringing again.
Then I get a text alert.
I frown in worry. “That’s my parents’ ringtone.”
She nods in understanding and moves away from me, sliding off the counter. “Get it. It might be important.”
“Damn them.” I heave a sigh of annoyance at my dad’s impeccable timing, and bend down to fetch the phone from my pants pocket.
What I see makes me suck in a sharp breath of dismay.
It’s a text from my mother:
Your father’s had a heart attack. He’s all right, he’s home from the hospital and resting comfortably, and nobody else knows about it. Don’t say anything to anybody, but we need you to fly home.
Chapter Thirty-Three
SIENNA
Donovan looks as if he’s about to have a stroke. “Oh my God. I can’t believe it. His damn blood pressure!”
“He didn’t have a heart attack!” I protest. “I saw him in town this morning. He definitely did not have a heart attack, go to the hospital, and return home since this morning.”
My phone bleeps.
This is Mr. Witlocke. I need to speak to you on a rather urgent matter. Can you come over right away? I’ll be in the conference room.
Donovan and I exchange looks of bafflement. “What the hell is he up to?”
“I mean, he’s a Witlocke – who the heck knows? Let’s find out, shall we?” I type out a reply:
I’ll be there in ten minutes.
No point in telling him that Donovan is home.
“Make it twenty,” Donovan says. “We need a quick shower or they’ll smell the sex on us.”
I change it to twenty minutes and send the reply.
I smirk at him. “If you want it to be a quick shower, then you keep your hands to yourself, mister.”
“Ha! You’re the infamous shower molester,” he scoffs.
“How dare you.” But as soon as we turn on the water, I can’t help but kiss the water droplets on his broad chest. And then I keep kissing them as they drip in a southward direction.
“I am very reluctantly going to have to stop you.” Donovan puts his hands on my shoulders and gently moves me back. “And by the way, I told you so.”
“You are such a Witlocke.”
“You’re a Witlocke now too,” he reminds me.
He’s got me there, the son of a bitch.
“Let me just hug you, then,” I say to him. I lean in to him, arms around his waist, and bury my face in his chest. He wraps his arms around me, and I sink into him.
My husband. The man who was there for me even when I didn’t know it. The man who helped me out from behind the scenes, never taking any credit, for all these long years. The man who carried around his silly lovely present for me, for twenty-one years. The man who makes me laugh and drives me crazy.
The man I love.
The man with a body so sinfully sexy it should be illegal.
“Oh, yeah…” he groans in pleasure as my hands move across his stomach and drift downward. “I mean, no! Sienna, I’m only human! If you don’t stop, we’ll never make it to my parents’ house.”
“Family. They’re the worst,” I mutter into his broad c
hest.
“Can’t argue with that.” He turns off the water and throws open the shower door. “Don’t tempt me any more, Shower Molester. That’s your new name.”
“What happened to Disaster Girl?”
“Good question.” He steps out of the shower and grabs a towel. “What did happen to her? She probably crashed into a mountain or something because she was too stubborn to ask for directions. Sounds like a thing that would happen to her. Let’s just go figure out what my parents are up to so we can resume this conversation, shall we?”
“Just remember, Aunt Fernanda is going to be coming back to the house soon. We may need to resume this conversation at the nearest motel.”
I dry off so fast I peel off several layers of skin. I quickly scrub down the counter where we just made love, and spray some air freshener. Then we pile into his car and drive to his family’s house.
His parents are waiting for me in their conference room, seated in the conversation area on two leather chairs, side by side like a king and queen on their thrones. To my shock, most of my family’s there. Uncle Vito and Aunt Chiara, Rocco and Katherine, Sara and Cesare, all standing together in a defensive little huddle near a stack of wine crates; and Donovan’s uncle Phillip and Aunt April, and cousins Jonathon, Brandon and Cory, sitting a few feet away from them. Jamie is perched by herself on the window seat, with Toni by her side. She’s still wearing her special headband.
“Donovan?” Diana splutters, her cheeks flooding with color.
“Hello, Dad. You look amazingly good for someone who didn’t just have a heart attack.” Donovan shoves his hands in his pockets, and his eyes flicker with amusement at the look of comical dismay on his father’s face. “Explain.”
“We… I…” Montgomery turns to Vito and splutters, “You didn’t tell me he was home. You just let me make a fool of myself! And to think, I thought we had reached some common ground. I thought we might be able to reconcile.”
“I didn’t tell anyone but Sienna I was here!” Donovan says sharply. “You know what? Every damn time there’s a problem with either one of the families, you use it as an excuse to start this stupid feud all over again instead of just talking it over like adults. It’s like you enjoy giving money to lawyers and sitting in court all day. Do you enjoy that?” he demands of his parents. “Well, do you?” They shake their heads. He looks around the room at everybody else, and they all shake their heads sheepishly.
“A feud that nobody can even remember the origin of,” I add. “And I do not want to hear a single word about farm animals, thank you very much.”
“Farm animals?” Donovan looks appalled. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“The decorating committee meeting that you thankfully escaped by flying to Los Angeles.” I shudder at the memory. “Anyway, moving on. What’s this fake heart attack business?” My gaze sweeps the room. “Since you were all obviously in on it.”
“We all mutually agreed to lure Donovan home so you two could talk it out,” Diana says defensively.
Donovan folds his arms across his chest. “Please explain to me how this was going to work.”
“Well…” Her gaze drifts to the floor. “We were going to–”
“You’re looking at the floor, Mother. That’s your lying face.”
“Fine!” She glares at him. “We were going to tell Sienna that there were some problems with the land contract and we needed to lure you home. That way, if you called her to ask about your father, she wouldn’t spill the beans that he hadn’t had a heart attack. The Ribaldis agreed that they would help us with this. Then we were thinking of locking you two in a room together at the winery once he got here, and leaving you there until you reconciled.”
“You what?” Donovan yells.
“Seriously?” I shout. “That was your plan? That’s felony kidnapping! You people need professional help!”
“You were just so miserable,” Aunt Katherine protests. “We’ve never seen you so unhappy. Not even after Simon. It was like all the joy had gone from your life, like you’d never smile again.” Sara and Cesare both nod solemnly. “Much as we hate to admit it, you and Donovan were, somehow, mysteriously, inexplicably, ridiculously, against all reason…”
“Aunt Katherine. Get to the point.”
“…a very good couple,” she finishes up huffily.
“And Graham kept calling us and telling us what a pathetic, dysfunctional wreck you were,” Montgomery jumps in, talking to Donovan. “We had to do something to help you.”
“He said that?” Donovan splutters.
Montgomery shrugs uncomfortably. “Well, words to that effect.”
Donovan looks at me. “Remind me later, there’s a website where you can buy fake Bigfoot molds to make fake footprints.”
“No!” I’m appalled. “You’re a very bad best friend.”
“Fake Bigfoot molds? You see?” Montgomery says to his wife. “He’s absolutely lost it. Damn Ribaldis. She’s hexed him.”
“No, she didn’t. It’s all Dad’s fault,” Jamie pipes up, glaring at her mother. Still not speaking directly to her father.
“You! I. Have. Had. It.” Donovan walks over, snatches her penis deely-bobber headband off her head, and snaps it in two. The entire room bursts into applause.
Jamie responds with a shriek of outrage.
Toni stands up and starts stamping on the headband.
“How dare you!” Jamie wails at her. “I thought you were on my side!”
“I am on your side! That’s why I’m doing this!” Toni jumps on the headband with both feet.
“Everybody in the Witlocke family needs to sit down and have a talk.” Donovan says loudly, speaking over the sound of clapping and cheering. “We are going to clear the air, starting with what I found on the morning of my tenth birthday, and moving on to the fact that for our entire lives, Toni and Jamie thought you loved me more because I’m a boy, and I thought you didn’t consider me your real son.”
“You what?” The look on Montgomery Witlocke’s face is truly tragic. He looks wrecked. As if he might cry. “You thought that? We made you think that?”
Diana puts her hand on his arm and squeezes it, as if to give him strength, and she blinks away tears and sniffles hard.
Donovan glances at me. “Do you guys mind leaving, babe? We need a little time. I’ll call you the minute we’re done.”
“I am delighted to let you guys finally deal with this. We’re off.”
I leave the room, the rest of the family trailing after me. When we get outside, I say, “Thank you for that insane attempt at reconciling me and Donovan – sort of. Please never do anything like that again without consulting me. And by the way, why is Aunt Fernanda not in on this?”
“Oh, we told her about it, and she said that the best she could promise was that she wouldn’t slash any Witlocke tires. Today, anyway. So we all mutually agreed it was best she give this meeting a miss,” Uncle Rocco says.
“Smart move,” I agree.
We all exchange hugs, and then they get in their cars and I walk back to the Ribaldi property and drive into town. I was planning to meet up with Pamela this afternoon at Sacred Grounds, our favorite downtown coffee shop, and I have a lot to tell her.
She’s standing by the outdoor seating area when I stroll up.
“I have a bit of news for you,” she says. “I managed to follow a paper trail from Ferguson Property Holdings through several shell companies they own. A company called Sunny Acres built a subdivision in Idaho. The Sunny Acres subdivision, designed with the same eco-friendly principles as the one that will be built here. Five hundred and twenty-five homes, completed only a couple of months ago. I took it on myself to call the president of the homeowners’ association, and he isn’t aware of any major issues with the homes.”
“Any major issues?” I echo.
“Yeah, he said he had to follow up on something about a report of a leaking roof, but they’ve been having a lot of rain there. He didn’t think it wa
s a big deal.”
I arch an eyebrow. “And yet you don’t sound as happy as I’d expect.”
“Well, there’s just something about it that feels hinky.” She purses her lips, frowning in thought. “I mean, it’s a little odd to me that he owned that many shell companies. And if everything’s fine there, why wouldn’t they just give you the name of the subdivision in the first place? It wouldn’t normally necessarily ring any alarm bells, but when you add in the fact that nobody has been able to find out what this guy was doing before a year ago, and there’s no history on him, and I had to work really hard to track down that subdivision…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know, but I’m starting to feel like something’s off.”
“I agree. Something’s wrong, but we’re supposed to sign that agreement next week. I’m not sure what we could find out before then.” I sigh. “I’ve asked our closing attorney if he knows anything, but he doesn’t have a clue. Not really his purview.”
“And, total change of subject, you’ve had sex.” She skewers me with an appraising gaze. Damn Bestie ESP.
I glance around. A few people who were wandering by slow down, straining their ears.
“Well, thank you for announcing that to everybody!” I say indignantly. “Yes, Donovan is back in town, and we’ve reconciled.”
Behind her, I spot a couple of familiar faces. Constantine and Graham are sitting at an umbrella-topped sidewalk table. Graham catches my eye and waves at me.
“Hey, you guys!” I call out to them. “That’s Donovan’s business partner, and his friend Constantine,” I tell Pamela. “Okay, hold on minute.”
I type out a quick message to Donovan, telling him what Pamela found out. I doubt he’ll have time to do much with the information before next Wednesday, but it’s worth a shot. Then we walk over to Constantine and Graham.
Constantine looks dismayed as we grab a couple of chairs and pull them up to their table. “So soon?” He shakes his head sadly. “I expected more of him.”